


Must Have Been the Wind

by WolvenStorm



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Light Angst, M/M, Worried Bokuto Koutarou, can be read as platonic if you want, it's not graphic at all, just heavily implied, no beta we die like the men kirishima wants us to be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:14:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28735551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolvenStorm/pseuds/WolvenStorm
Summary: Bokuto wakes up to hear glass shattering in the apartment above his, followed almost immediately by quiet sobbing.Upon investigating a little, he learns that the person crying is actually a beautiful man named Akaashi who may or may not want his help.He helps anyways.Just a short one-shot based on the song 'Must Have Been the Wind' by Alec Benjamin!
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji & Bokuto Koutarou, Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 6
Kudos: 60





	Must Have Been the Wind

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys, gals, and non-binary pals!  
> This is my first ever fic, thanks so much for clicking on it!
> 
> Trigger warning for implied/referenced abuse. I really tried to keep it vague, just like the song, because I personally don't have any experience with abuse and didn't want to start writing for other people. Sorry if that makes it confusing!!
> 
> Just making sure you know, this is completely based off of the song 'Must Have Been the Wind' by Alec Benjamin, I really recommend you go listen to it.  
> It's an amazing song, and also might make this fic make more sense-  
> Anyways, I've had this idea for FOREVER, since I first listened to that song, so I finally decided to actually write it down and post it.  
> So, that's all for now! I hope you enjoy!
> 
> (( Also it's not beta read, oops ))

Bokuto woke abruptly to the sound of glass shattering. It was not a pleasant noise to hear in the middle of the night in a relatively new apartment, and he was up and out of his bed within seconds, rushing to the windows to see if anyone had broken in.

After a quick inspection, he realized that he was still alone in the room, and everything was how he had left it hours before. Puzzled and still half-asleep, he stumbled back to his bed, sitting down on it and wincing at the loud creaking noise it produced. He rubbed his eyes, still bleary with sleep and wondering where the heck the sound of breaking glass had come from.

“Must have been a dream,” he muttered to himself, but that still didn’t answer the question about what had woken him up. Bokuto was a fairly heavy sleeper, and it usually took more than a nightmare to shake him awake.

He let out a quiet groan and fell back onto his bed, not bothering to slip under the covers as he stared up through the darkness at his ceiling. Subconsciously, he strained his ears, still trying to see if anything was out of place.

Just as Bokuto concluded that he really must have been imagining it, another sound caught his attention. This was much quieter than the first one, and completely different. It sounded like… crying?

He jolted upright again, fatigue forgotten, and cocked his head, as if that would help him locate the source of the quiet sobbing.

After a few seconds, he realized that it wasn’t coming from either side of him. It was coming from straight above - from the apartment right over his head. After some quick deductive reasoning, he concluded that the shattering glass sound had also come from the same place.

Bokuto stood up quickly, his chin length curtain of black and white hair falling limply around his face as he did so. He normally wore it gelled up in spikes, but that obviously didn’t work for sleeping. While he did feel much less like himself with his hair down, he also knew the practicality behind it, and had resolved long ago to not give it much thought.

He glanced up at the ceiling again, trying to decide what to do. Glass shattering and someone crying… it could be any range of scenarios, most of which weren’t Bokuto’s business at all. But still… if someone was crying, that meant that they were hurt, either emotionally or physically or both, and Bokuto could never leave someone alone if they were hurting. It was one of his most defining qualities - his urge to help people.

After a few short moments of thinking, Bokuto heard another stifled sob from up above, and quite quickly made up his mind. Since he was only wearing sweatpants, he pulled a sweatshirt on over his bare chest and grabbed a pair of flip flops, which he then slipped on effortlessly.

He tried to be quiet as he exited his apartment and walked down the hallway to the elevator, knowing that ninety percent of the building was probably sleeping, half of them were light sleepers, and the walls of the building were paper-thin at best. Which explained why he’d been able to hear the glass shattering so easily, as well as the soft crying.

Bokuto was known for being loud; he’d been told he was on many occasions by both friends and strangers. Now, however, he was silent, padding carefully down the hall and stopping outside the elevators. He pressed the up button on one and waited for the doors to open, wondering if the shattering glass had woken up anyone else in the apartment building.

He stepped into the elevator. Probably not. Or, at least, they didn’t care enough to come and check out what the source of the noise was.

It was a quick ride to the next floor, barely fifteen seconds, but it felt like an eternity to Bokuto, who was starting to get more and more anxious. He stumbled out of the elevator into the hallway of the second floor, quickly trying to soften his footsteps again.

He mentally counted the number of doors between the elevators and his apartment on the floor below, trying to calculate which room was the one he had heard the noise from.  
“One, two, three, four,” Bokuto mumbled, counting off the doors as he passed them, coming to a stop in front of one of them, apartment number 20.

“Here goes nothing,” he muttered, making a fist with one hand and raising it to knock on the dark wood door. The sharp noise rang out rather loudly in the otherwise silent hall, but Bokuto couldn’t really bring himself to care.

His stomach curled up into a nervous knot as the knocking died away, and he dropped his hand to his side again. Voices could be heard distantly from inside the apartment and, after a few moments, footsteps.

The door creaked open, and someone appeared in the foot-wide gap it made.

“Hello?” They asked, voice soft and composed.

Bokuto blinked, eyes adjusting to the sudden light that came from the now exposed apartment. The newcomer was a young man, about his own age, with slightly ruffled black hair and gunmetal blue eyes. Although a few inches shorter than Bokuto, he appeared rather toned, and his skin was a few shades tanner, not that it was obvious or even very visible in the poor lighting. His expression was guarded, but his eyes showed a layer of sadness and fear, betraying the young man’s true state of mind.

His eyes were puffy and his cheeks were damp, also, instantly marking him as the one who had been crying.

“O-oh,” Bokuto said eloquently, momentarily forgetting what he was doing there as he stared at the beautiful stranger. After said beautiful stranger arched an eyebrow, he swallowed and continued, concern overriding his embarrassment. “Hey. I was just, um, downstairs in my apartment, and I thought I heard something coming from up here. It woke me up, so I just… thought I’d check it out. Are you okay?”

The stranger blinked, and Bokuto could see the panic settle in his eyes for a moment before composing himself again.

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir, I’m sorry,” he said, subconsciously shrinking further into his sweater, which was already zipped up to his chin. “I think your ears are playing tricks on you. Or, else, it must have just been the wind.”

Now, Bokuto wasn’t the smartest person in the world. It was true, and he was quite aware of it. But, he did have pretty good emotional intelligence, and he could usually identify a blatant lie when he saw it.

This was a blatant lie.

The way the man looked down at the floor as he spoke, the way the sweater was zipped up all the way to his chin, and the way his hands dug into his pockets... He was lying, Bokuto was sure of it.

But he also knew that he couldn’t force anything out of him. If this man was lying, it meant he didn’t want to tell Bokuto the truth, and he had to respect that.

But even so…

“Are you sure? I swear I heard voices…” Bokuto pressed onwards, against his better judgement.

Gunmetal blue eyes looked straight into his golden ones, calculating and cold. The fear that had been there in the beginning was gone, and this stranger was completely composed now.

“I’m sure,” he responded calmly. Then, his face softened into a hesitant sort of gratitude. “Thank you, though, for your concern, sir. I do wish I could tell you about the noise, but I really didn’t hear a thing. Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s the middle of the night, and I have to go back in.” He gestured back into the room behind him, and Bokuto realized once again that he’d never even stepped outside of the door.

“Okay, if you insist,” Bokuto relented, although he definitely did not believe the other man. “I’m sorry about waking you up, then. I just wanted to make sure…”

The dark haired stranger nodded silently before moving to step back into the apartment.

“Wait!” Bokuto said quickly, half reaching out a hand in a motion to stop him. The man flinched at the sudden movement, but looked back at him anyways. “Um- I just- since we’re neighbors… what’s your name? If you don’t mind me asking.”

The man lifted his eyebrows in slight surprise, before they settled back into their place of cool indifference. “Akaashi Keiji,” he said quietly, in that same smooth voice as before.

Bokuto was slightly surprised that he had answered, but not at all surprised by the answer. Akaashi Keiji. Of course. It was beautiful, elegant, and slid across the tongue in such a way that made one want to repeat it over and over until their throat was dry.

Beautiful. Elegant. Composed. Just like the person it described.

Akaashi Keiji. Bokuto wanted to keep saying that name for the rest of his life.

He snapped out of his stupor just in time to answer. “Oh, cool! Akaashi! Nice! Uh, I’m Bokuto Koutarou.”

“Nice to meet you, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi responded politely. “Now, good night.” And with that, he disappeared, and the door shut quietly behind him.

Bokuto blinked twice, suddenly all alone again in the dimly lit hallway. He stared at the dark oak door in mild annoyance, as if scrutinizing it would give him answers to all the millions of questions running around in his head.

Akaashi had said he was fine… And, again, while Bokuto definitely didn’t believe him, there wasn’t really much he could do about it. He had just met the man, and certainly didn’t have any right to be intruding on his personal life.

And yet…

Bokuto shook his head, even though there was no one else there to see. No. He’d gone and checked out the worrying noises, offered his help. There wasn’t anything else he could do at the moment. He was not going to be pushy. Not with a stranger.

He shoved his black-streaked hair out of his face before turning around and walking back down the hallway towards the elevators, only half-heartedly attempting to step silently.

* * *

Bokuto stared at the ceiling, thoughts moving sluggishly as the cold concrete dug into his back uncomfortably. It was probably somewhere around one in the morning, and there he lay, spread out like a starfish on the floor of his one bedroom apartment.

He couldn’t really think of a good excuse for being on the ground, but for some reason, he didn’t have the motivation to get up.

So there he lay, back pressed against the cold concrete, black and white hair spread out messily to either side of him, intense golden eyes trained on the plaster above him. He was absentmindedly tracking the blemishes and marks, not quite registering them in his head. It had been a whole day since that night-time excursion to the higher floor, and the incident had mostly faded from his mind, curling up in the back of his thoughts as he went about his daily life. ‘Mostly’, however, seemed to be the key word. For as soon as Bokuto had been able to relax, sinking back into his bed, he had begun to think about it again, along with other things, and now it was keeping him awake.

Bokuto groaned and flung an arm over his face. There was a certain feeling inside of him, something persistent and stubborn. The urge to take further action, even when he knew he probably shouldn’t. He blinked his eyes closed, wishing that the hard floor against his back was the only reason he couldn’t sleep.

And then, for the second time that week, he heard a noise coming from the apartment above him, and his eyes fluttered open. He shot upright, suddenly able to move, and pricked his ears, only to hear…

Voices. Voices that had probably been there the whole time, raised to a shouting level, to a volume that he could hear. One of them was deeper, the other shaky. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, but he could hear when one of them started crying. It was much softer this time, purposefully muffled, but it was still there. And this time, Bokuto recognized it immediately. It was definitely Akaashi.

He swallowed thickly, trying to reason through the possible courses of action. Unfortunately, reasoning had never been his strong suit and, before he knew it, he was standing up and slipping flip flops on - the same pair he’d used the night before.

Bokuto hesitated when he was about to leave his apartment, hand stretched out halfway towards the handle. Was he really sure that this was the right thing to do? He was still a stranger, and no matter how many times he heard Akaashi cry, it didn’t exactly justify him making a room call. Besides, he didn’t have all the facts… He was jumping to conclusions, as he so often did.

_I really shouldn’t assume,_ he thought to himself. _And even if something IS going on, not everyone wants help..._

Just at that moment, however, he heard a distant slamming noise, definitely coming from the room above him, followed immediately by loud footsteps that made their way down the hall. Bokuto listened to them fade away, making up his mind. He would go one more time. Just to check on Akaashi. Just once. He knew he would never be able to fall asleep otherwise. Not while that nagging feeling was still curled up inside his chest, eating him up with worry.

The black and white haired man exited his apartment and retraced the same path as he had the night before, walking down the hallway to the elevator. Again, the ride seemed to be simultaneously the longest and shortest one he’d ever experienced and, before he knew it, he was on the second floor again.

The elevator doors slid open, and Bokuto slipped out silently, trying again to keep his footsteps quiet as he walked down the hall towards Akaashi’s room. He briefly wondered why he hadn’t run into Akaashi’s partner when they’d come storming loudly out of there only moments before, quickly deciding that they must have taken the stairs. Really, that was better for Bokuto, anyways, and he forced himself not to dwell on it too long.

He stopped outside of the same dark door that he remembered from the previous night, feeling nervousness rise in his throat. He tried to swallow it down, brushed a couple black strands of hair out of his face, and raised his hand to knock on the wood. For some reason, he could only barely hear Akaashi’s muffled sobs coming from inside the room. They had been much louder when he was on the lower floor, which didn’t quite make sense. Again, Bokuto forced himself to not dwell on it. He wasn’t really smart enough to figure those kinds of things out, anyways.

He knocked on the door three times, and the sound echoed through the silent hallway. From inside the room, Bokuto could hear the sobs stop, and someone started rustling around. He drummed his fingers against his thigh as he waited, trying not to get antsy.

The door opened, and he narrowed his eyes against the sudden light. Akaashi emerged in the space between the frame, and he looked even more exhausted than he had the night before. His black hair was messy, his gunmetal blue eyes were red and puffy, the bags underneath them were dark, and his gray sweater was, once again, zipped up past his chin. His expression was guarded, but his hand was shaking where it rested against the doorframe, so Bokuto figured he was putting on a mask.

Akaashi’s eyes widened in slight surprise as he recognized Bokuto, but he recomposed himself quickly.

“Bokuto-san,” he greeted calmly, and Bokuto felt a little jump in his heart hearing that the other man had remembered his name. “It’s quite late. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

The black and white haired man swallowed, trying to summon at least half an ounce of the courage he usually had during the day. “Well,” he started weakly. “I… I heard some noise coming from up here... again. I just wanted to check it out again, make sure that everything was alright.”

“I see,” Akaashi said slowly. He seemed to have prepared himself for this, because his expression of normalcy didn’t waver at all. “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint again, but I’ve heard nothing abnormal lately. Maybe you ought to get your hearing checked?” He looked at Bokuto with mild concern, sharp green-blue eyes boring into him.

Bokuto blinked his own round golden ones, a little unsure about how to continue the conversation. “Are you… are you positive? Absolutely nothing?” For some reason, he kept pressing, even though it was obvious that Akaashi wasn’t going to crack.

“I’m quite sure,” he responded firmly. “Sorry to disappoint, sir, but I think that whatever weird noise you keep hearing… it’s probably just the wind. Now, I really should be going back inside now. It’s quite late.”

Bokuto nodded reluctantly. “Right.”

Akaashi drew his hand back from the doorframe and started retreating into the room, obviously eager to escape without any more conversation. As he began closing the door, Bokuto felt one last random surge of confidence.

“Hey!” He blurted out. The black haired man stopped his movements and blinked. “Akaashi! Um, if you do ever… If you do ever, well, _hear_ something. Or, uh, need anything... I’m in the room right below you! Feel free to… you know… come around, if you need someone to talk to. I know we just met, but, like, I’m your neighbor! And I’m always here if you... Need anything…”

Akaashi stared at him through slightly narrowed eyes, face unreadable. He seemed taken aback, almost vulnerable, like he was thinking too hard about something and couldn’t decide on the answer. His mask seemed to have slipped for a second, but Bokuto still couldn’t tell what was going on inside his head.

They stared at each other for a solid three seconds before Akaashi abruptly slammed the door in his face.

Bokuto stared at it awkwardly, not quite sure what to do. He turned around and began the slow trudge back towards the elevator, fingers resuming their drumming on his thigh. He wasn’t quite sure why he’d thought going back to Akaashi’s room would result in anything except a repeat of what had happened the first night. Quite stupid of him, really.

He let out a long, drawn out sigh. _I should probably start minding my own business._ He couldn’t fix everyone’s problems, especially when he barely knew the person.

Still… Bokuto thought back to Akaashi, to his intelligent eyes and raven-black hair. And he couldn’t brush off the notion that this man needed help - his help. And he’d be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that maybe he wanted to get to know him… That maybe he wanted to become friends.

Whatever would come of it in the long term, Bokuto felt a deep desire to, at the very least, make sure Akaashi knew that the option was open, if he wanted to take it.

If he wanted help, he’d know where to find it. That’s all Bokuto wanted, really. To give him the option.

* * *

It was a few nights later that Bokuto heard the noises from upstairs again. Muffled yelling, followed by faded arguing, the opening and slamming of a door, footsteps marching down the hall, and… and then the crying started up.

Bokuto swallowed, closing his eyes and turning over. He only lasted a few seconds before groaning and sitting up. The need to go check on Akaashi again had entered his mind, and he knew he’d never get back to sleep. Sighing, he slipped out of bed, shivering slightly as the cool air hit his skin.

He wasn’t going to go upstairs again. That hadn’t worked the last two times he tried.

No, he had something different planned now.

Bokuto slowly made his way across the room to where his boombox was perched precariously on his dresser. He picked it up and carried it out to the main room, flicking on the lights as he did so. His hair might usually be styled like an owl’s, but he actually had pretty terrible night vision.

He set the boombox on the small dinner table towards the center and yawned, turning to look at the shelf on the side of the room. It was full of a weird combination of CDs and books, vaguely organized - just like everything else in his apartment. Bokuto always got teased about his habit for creating ‘neat messes’, not that he minded. It worked for him.

Especially now. He knew just what CD he wanted, and he knew just where that CD was.

Bokuto paused for a second, straining his ears. He could still hear the quiet sobs coming from upstairs. If his ears could pick up such a soft sound as that, then surely… surely the person who was making that soft sound would be able to hear what he was about to do.

_Right?_

Well, only one way to find out.

Bokuto slid the CD into the boombox, taking a few moments longer than it should have to set it up and start playing it. His hands were still shaky from sleep. He twisted the volume all the way up, wincing as the sound hit his eardrums.

After the initial deafening humming, the lyrics started, and Bokuto nodded in satisfaction.

**“Sometimes in our lives  
We all have sorrow.” **

There was no way that Akaashi couldn’t hear this.

Actually, there was probably no way that the entire building couldn’t hear this.

He would definitely get complaints later. But, right at that moment, he didn’t really care about that.

All he cared about was the sad black haired man in the apartment above him, and making sure he knew that he wasn’t alone.

The song Bokuto had picked, “Lean on Me”, continued to play at full volume, echoing around the lonely room, but Bokuto started tuning out the lyrics. He’d heard this song a million times, and had thought it would carry the right message along its notes as it drifted upwards, through the roof.

**“Lean on me, when you’re not strong,  
And I’ll be your friend, I’ll help you carry on.” **

Bokuto sank into the chair next to the boombox, staring absentmindedly out the window at the dark sky. He hoped that Akaashi was listening, and that maybe he felt a little less alone as the lyrics entered his mind. Such a soft noise as crying wouldn’t be audible over the loud music, so Bokuto wasn’t sure if he’d stopped or not, but he certainly hoped so.

The black and white haired boy sat there, lost in thought, for the next few minutes.

The song had just finished by the time Bokuto was jolted back to alertness by a quiet knocking on the door.

He almost flipped the chair over in his rush to stand up.

Crossing the distance of the room in just a few steps, Bokuto scrambled to the door and pulled it open quickly, both very shocked and yet not at all surprised by the site that waited for him on the other side.

It was Akaashi. And he looked like he’d been crying.

Gunmetal blue eyes stared at the floor for a few moments before flickering up to look at Bokuto. He seemed anxious and awkward, as was probably to be expected.

It only took Bokuto a couple of seconds to realize that the last thing Akaashi wanted to do was explain himself. He made a small noise of recognition and stepped to the side wordlessly, offering the other man a nonverbal invitation into his apartment.

Akaashi seemed about to step forwards into the room when he hesitated. His hands were shaking badly, and he glanced towards Bokuto again, an unspoken question upon his mildly suspicious expression.

Bokuto swallowed thickly, trying to work up the courage to talk.

“Hey, I promise that I’m not playing tricks on you,” he started gently, as if trying not to spook a wild beast. “You’re always welcome to come in, just like I said earlier. You can stay here for an hour or two, if you ever need a friend. I know we just met, but I want to help, even if helping is just… you know, providing a safe place you can come if you need to…”

He trailed off as Akaashi nodded and stepped inside the apartment.

“Th-thank you, Bokuto-san,” the black haired man said quietly. His voice was shaky, but his gratitude seemed genuine, and he seemed to visibly relax once Bokuto closed the door.

They didn’t speak much as Bokuto moved to the kitchen area and started making tea. Akaashi settled onto the couch, staring at a random point on the wall absentmindedly. He accepted the warm drink politely when offered, muttering nothing more than a soft ‘thank you’.

Bokuto settled into the opposite end of the couch, wrapping his hands around his own mug of tea and staring into the swirling abyss of liquid.

“Akaashi,” he started, and the other man turned to look at him with wary eyes.

“... Yeah?”

“We can talk about the noise when you’re ready. I’m not gonna pressure you into anything. Just know that, whenever you feel comfortable talking about it, I’ll be here for you. And until then, well, just know that I’m a friend, and this apartment is always open.”

Akaashi nodded, hesitantly raising the mug to his mouth and sipping slowly. “I- I appreciate it. Thank you.”

Bokuto trailed his finger along the rim of his own drink, staring at it intently. “But until then, we’ll just say that it… it must have been the wind. Right?”

The black haired man looked back at him with slightly appraising eyes. “Must have been the wind,” he agreed, lifting the mug of tea to his lips to take another sip.

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo, thanks for reading all the way through!
> 
> Just saying again, the song this is based on is 'Must Have Been the Wind' by Alec Benjamin. Go listen to it! I'm trying to give credit where credit is due, help-
> 
> And, also, feel free to drop a comment! I'd love to hear from you. And I'm still trying to grow as a writer and stuff, so constructive criticism is always appreciated!
> 
> I hope you have a great day! <3 Or night, actually, if you're reading this at 11 pm like I'm assuming you are.


End file.
